


say your goodbyes but darlin’ if you please (don’t go without me)

by hanekawa



Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Depression, M/M, Post-Series, Ratings may go up in later chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 01:01:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28912791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanekawa/pseuds/hanekawa
Summary: Liars, the lot of them.Nope, Inaho is totally not developing an obsession over Slaine Troyard’s eyelashes. He’s not. Really.or the one where Inaho is Totally Not Fine, and Slaine is just. Slaine.
Relationships: Kaizuka Inaho/Slaine Troyard
Comments: 5
Kudos: 52





	say your goodbyes but darlin’ if you please (don’t go without me)

“Inaho.” Slaine says. “Inaho. Inaho. Inaho.”

Inaho stares at him, but Slaine isn’t even looking at him. His eyes are trained way down, down, down, at the place where a knife is protruding out of Inaho’s sternum, Slaine’s hand gripping the handle.

Slaine has such ugly hands, Inaho thinks. The scars that crisscrossed Slaine’s hands, they give way to some ugly coloring scabs, making them stand out on Slaine’s too pale skin. On some people, visible scars make them look tough and dangerous. 

Slaine is not one of those people.

“So. Inaho.” Slaine says, and this time, he finally looks Inaho in the eye, the corner of his lips lifted up, forming something that’s too malicious to be a smile and yet too tender to be a sneer. “Feel alive, yet?”

And Inaho just stares and stares and stares at him. Words have always been so. 

Meaningless.

*

His left eye hurt, sometimes.

The war is over but the destruction remains, and there’s a lot of rebuilding to be done.

But that’s not Inaho’s problem. 

The Federation doesn’t disassemble Deucalion. Magbaridge is still her Captain, and Inaho is still one of her crew, even when most of his friends resigned. He has paranoia to be thankful to for his continuing employment, perhaps. The higher ups at the Federation want the Martian technology but not the Martians themselves, and Princess _(Empress, she’s Empress now)_ Asseylum is widely welcomed with smiles at the front and grimaces at the back. The message couldn’t be any clearer: she is tolerated--but that’s all she is given, since her name is still firmly on the high priority kill list.

Deucalion would be the front liner once a war is breaking out again.

_(A thought for another day.)_

Everything is supposed to have turned back to normal, but his left eye hurt sometimes, even though he already traded the neuron robotic eye for a simple prosthetic eye instead. People lost so many things during wars; a house, a whole city, precious possessions, families, friends, loved ones ( _Okojou, remember Okojou_ ) and yet. And yet the one thing he missed most is something he shouldn’t have had in the first place: his robotic eye.

( _his emotional crutch_ , Inko once remarked)

Phantom pain, Doctor Yagumo called it, the imaginary pain one feels over wounds that do not actually exist. 

Key word: imaginary.

_It’s all in your head, just forget it and move on,_ except it’s not that easy—not easy at all. Especially with how often he wakes up in the night with his left eye hurting, imports of data blurring in both eyes, words coming out of his mouth like he’s in the middle of a conversation, and that particular hiss sound of quiet mechanical whirring in his ear, only to realize he’s alone in his room, his eye is still the useless prosthetic one, and, worse of all, that he’s been talking to himself the entire time.

He’s been losing himself all this while.

*

_(He’s not sure he wants it back.)_

*

The verdict for Slaine Troyard’s fate quickly proved to be more bothersome than originally thought.

Couldn’t let him live (too dangerous, even in his vulnerable-looking state), couldn’t let him die (in case they need a leverage against the current Empress of Vers). So they decided to make him disappear instead.

Inaho thought that moment in the beach with him holding a gun to Slaine Troyard’s head would be the last time he saw him, but then Slaine Troyard’s guardianship got dropped on his lap.

“What?”

“—prudent, especially since you had had a connection with the current rules of Vers Empire. You were also the one who managed to capture the prisoner, and therefore it stands to reason you’d also be the one who would manage to keep him in line. Remember this is a great honor, and we trust you’d do it to the best of your ability. We commend you especially for—“

In short: _nobody wants to deal with him and you’re the only one in-the-know who wouldn’t make too much fuss about it._

So there he was, sitting across Slaine Troyard for the first time, with only a minimalist table separating them. He kept staring at Slaine Troyard, but the other boy never even bothered to lift his head, let alone making eye contact with him.

“Good afternoon, Slaine.” Inaho says in his usual quiet voice. Slaine doesn’t even look like he heard him at all. No matter. “You may recall you used to call me Orange. But my name is Inaho. Inaho Kaizuka. I’ll be taking charge of you from now on.”

Slowly, so very slowly, Slaine looks up.

“I don’t look forward to it _at all_.” Inaho says, more honest than he means to.

Slaine stares at him.

And then quiet, quiet, quiet.

*

(he likes it, he thinks.)

*

“So.” Inko says.

“What.” Inaho says, not looking up from his datapad.

“Yuki-san told me you’re in charge of that war-criminal-person? Slaine Troyard?”

He sighs. Closes his notepad. “Yuki-nee is not supposed to be at liberty to disclose such confidential information.”

“So it’s true then.” Inko stares at him. “Are you okay?”

A blink. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Inko shrugs. “He was the one who shot you in the eye, right?”

Ah. “I’m not having PTSD over him, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Is that so.” She looks wholly unconvinced. 

He frowns. “I’m not going to extract revenge or torture him, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Do I have a reason to be worried?” _would you like me to stage an intervention?_

Another blink. “No. No, I don’t think you do.”

She looks him right in the eye and doesn’t let go. “But you’re really okay, right?”

He hesitates. Decides she deserves the truth. “I’m _trying_ to be.”

“Okay.” She sits back down. _I trust you._

“Yeah.” _Thank you._

*

No, he’s not okay. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing. Is there something he’s supposed to be doing to Slaine Troyard anyway? There’s no manual for this kind of thing; he had checked. And when he tried to ask for detail, for some instruction, all he was told was just, “keep him squared and away.”

Which isn’t helpful. At all.

So he tries to keep his visits to this safe house regular, something like twice a week. Sometimes Yuki-nee would accompany him, but most of the time he’s alone.

“Good afternoon.” He’d say.

Slaine wouldn’t even acknowledge him, nor give any indication that he’s aware of his surrounding at all. The guards would sit him on his chair opposite Inaho, and he would just… slump, body going slack, like he doesn’t have any energy left to move.

_(like he doesn’t have any will left to live.)_

And Inaho—

Inaho would just. Watch him. Watch him breathe slow, in that rhythmic, barely perceptible pattern. Head bent down, his long bangs would cover his face, obscuring him from Inaho. From time to time his breaths would ruffle his bangs, being so long now that he doesn’t cut it.

And he’s always so, so, so quiet. 

*

An hour spent watching someone who likes to pretend he’s already dead shouldn’t be this fascinating.

And yet.

(No, he’s not developing an obsession. Really.)

*

Considering Inaho and Seylum ( _Empress Asseylum, he really needs to start using her real name_ ) are ‘friends’, one would think they would exchange words more often than they really do right now. 

He’s busy, she really has too much on her plate right now, he’s still in adjustment phase and no time for pleasantries, she’s working overtime doing her Empress-y duties, they haven’t had time for themselves at all—etcetera, etcetera. They could make up thousands different excuses for failing to keep in touch, but those are just that—excuses. Because the truth is—

The truth is, he and Seylum really have nothing to talk about.

*

(He’s strangely relieved about it.)

*

It’s just. 

Little things. 

But. 

He’s starting to notice, and now he just can’t stop noticing.

Like the quiet way Slaine breathes, and how sometimes his lips would part just the slightest bit when he exhales. Some days, Slaine’s lips would look dry, which is the norm for him. But then there are days when his lips would look cracked and inflamed, and appear redder than usual—like he’s been biting them sore. 

Looking at them, Inaho could feel his own lips ache in sympathy.

(he tried slipping in some lipbalm that didn’t come in a tube, but a nervous guard told him the prisoner had slipped it in the trash bag during disposal round. Well. At least Slaine knew it was there and actively destroying it meant he was being, well, active. It still counted as progress in Inaho’s book.)

Also, surprisingly, Slaine has quite long eyelashes. They’re the same pale blond color as his hair, making it not quite noticeable from a distance. But this close, with only a table separating him and Slaine, those lashes—they’re very noticeable, alright. 

He spends time counting them one by one. Unfortunately, his self-appointed limited time there (yes, he knows how to limit himself, Yuki-nee, thank you ever so much) keeps running out before he could finish counting the set on one eye, so every time, he has to start again from the beginning.

Slaine still hasn’t replied to any of Inaho’s attempts at communication. Through all of Inaho’s greetings and staring, he just sits there, not moving, not living. Beyond that first day, he also hasn’t shown any reaction to Inaho at all.

Inaho doesn’t have any complains really.

It’s. blessedly quiet, after all.

  
*

Yuki-nee, inevitably, gets *rather* concerned.

“Nao-kun, don’t you think lately you’ve spent too much time with that criminal? Are you being deceived by him? Should I try to put in a request for you to transfer to other units?”

He blinks. Scratch that, Yuki-nee is *very* concerned. “What?”

“I don’t think it’s right for them to treat you like this.” Yuki-nee sighs. “What were they thinking, putting someone like Nao-kun up for babysitting duty? They should have thought better than to assign someone who defeated that prisoner as said prisoner’s personal guard. That is just too cruel for both of you. I imagine it must be particularly traumatic experience to have to see each other’s face that often.”

…wait, what? 

Inaho blinks. Someone like *him*? “…are you telling me I’m unfit to be babysitting, or. Or to take care of other people?”

She puts both hands on her waist and looks down at him, an eyebrow raised. “Are you telling me I’m wrong?”

It annoys him that she’s actually not. “I can take care of other people just fine. Besides, it’s not me who will actually do all the works.”

“It would make me feel better if it was you who was assigned to feed him or some basic things like that. I know you’ll do just fine.” she frowns, a note of hesitation in her voice. “It worries me that you’re assigned to monitor his mental health.”

A blink. 

Wait, he is?

Yuki-nee’s eyes soften. “I don’t think either of you are ready. I’m worried you’ll just make each worse instead.”

Huh.

Is it just him or does Yuki-nee sound like she knows what she’s talking about?

(he’s not been fine for a while.)

Yuki-nee is looking at him with a gentle, warm, but imploring look that begs him to confess, to pour his heart out and tell her everything, let her make it alright. She wants to understand, and he just.

He’s not—

An uncomfortable feeling in the pit of his stomach, buzzing its way all the way into his arms, the tips of his fingers. The hair on his skin stand on its end.

It’s so unbelievably cold here.

A terrible, terrible feeling.

He just. Can’t stand it all.

Looking back at her, he tells her steadily, “I think I’ll manage it just fine, Yuki-nee. Trust me.”

*

(he’s not fine.)

  
*

As usual, he sits across Slaine, a simple table separating them. As usual, he greets him and makes some remarks about the state of the outside world. As usual, Slaine completely ignores him.

Unlike usual, however, this time he gets a chess board from his bag and places it on the table.

Slaine doesn’t move a muscle.

“Do you know how to play chess?” he asks, arranging both black and white pieces on the board. No answer. “See, chess is played by two people, each choosing their side. The one who has the white pieces could make the first move. Each side has sixteen pieces, and your objective is to opponent’s king.” He holds the black’s king up to his eye level with two fingers. “Each pieces has their own moves though, so you need to remember how they move before you could play. For example, while the king’s indeed the most important piece in the board, the Queen is actually the most powerful piece. This is because—“

He pauses. Realizes he’s been rambling. His fingers freeze on the white queen piece. The top is slightly jagged, evidence that at some point the piece has been dropped on hard surface and cracked. 

He is never aware of that. Never aware that this chess set is imperfect. Cracked, and yet the piece is still being used - still gets picked up and placed with the other pieces instead of being replaced. 

It’s. Nothing. A simple thing. A *small* thing. But it feels terribly important. 

The jagged edge bites into his skin. Blunt indentation, it won’t break skin unless he forces it to. Imperfect, but not terribly dangerous. Safe to keep, not broken enough to warrant replacement, not cracked enough to warrant a fix. 

Just like. 

It’s just like--

He feels eyes on him. Forces himself to look up. Slaine is watching him, lights dancing in his eyes, at odds with the way his face is nearly expressionless. 

Inaho stares. Hesitates. And ever so carefully, puts the white queen back onto the chess board. 

Slaine’s eyes follow the white queen, slowly, before he redirects them back to Inaho. 

Inaho’s suddenly very aware of the fleeting pain on his fingers, fingers that had carelessly traced the jagged edge of the chess piece back and forth without him realizing it, and how Slaine’s honing in on it. 

This is. Terrible. 

“You--” Slaine starts, but Inaho cuts him, “so I finally got your attention, huh? I guess I shall count this a victory.”

Slaine just keeps on watching him. And then, he just leans back on his chair, and blinks--real slow. A realization dawning. “Huh. This is unexpected.”

What is? Inaho refrains himself from asking. He’s not sure he wants to find out. He clears his throat. 

It should be a victory, for he finally manages to elicit a reaction from usually unresponsive Slaine Troyard. And yet. 

And yet. 

Why does he feel so exposed instead? 

_(I see you,_ Slaine’s eyes say. _I see all of you.)_

*

“I’m applying to an engineering college.” Calm says.

“Okay.” Inaho says. 

“Because I want to be an Engineer.” Calm adds. “A real Engineer.”

“Sure.”

Calm just keeps looking at him.

“Congratulation?” he hesitates.

Calm sighs. “Don’t you have something you want to do? Something you wish to do?”

He blinks. “I do have a job at the moment.”

“A leftover job from the times where said job is the only viable option to survive.”

Oh. So it’s about _that_. “I’m not doing it out of the goodness of my heart, Calm. I happen to be good at my job. Also, I like it.” Most of the time.

Calm just stares hard at him. “That’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”

He blinks. “Huh?”

“You know well that you’re in that job only because there’s no other option at the time. Let’s say you’re getting used to it. But that can’t be the only thing you actually want to do. Think about back in high school. Don’t you want to be somewhere else back then? Nina’s going to a designer school now, did you know? It’s near the University where Matsuribi-senpai is studying to get his teaching license. ”

High school times, Calm said. Inaho remembers his high school, a general public school, that for some reason had Kataphrakt driving & mechanic lessons as part of the curriculum. Is that the time of high school Calm referring to? Because even back then he’s pretty sure they were already gearing up for wars and military services. The only difference being during that time, they could still afford to pretend it all was just a harmless game.

But they all know better now.

(A sweet, sweet long-haired princess came along and naively wished for peace between Earth and Vers. What she got in the end after assassination attempts & much struggling later was a temporary peace that’s already straining at the edge, something he’s not entirely sure the princess is fully aware. Punishing a sacrificial lamb won’t put an end to it other than fueling the lamb’s believers. He knows his superiors certainly never think it’s all over. 

It’s only a matter of time.

But that’s thought for another day.)

“Are you sure you’re really alright?” Calm asks, sounding worried.

He looks down at his cold drink. He remembers ordering a mix of lemon and strawberry ice, yet what he actually got is an electric blue colored liquid with crushed ice and soft cream on top as well as a slice of lemon on the side. He takes a sip. It tastes unexpectedly sour on his tongue, making him grimace slightly. There’s also a mildly bitter but sweet aftertaste, like burnt sugar. All in all, he’s pretty sure this drink is not actually the one he orders.

“I think,” he looks back at Calm, “I just want to appreciate what I have now, instead of wishing for something that I’m not ready for.” 

Calm’s face… falls, is maybe not exactly the right word. His frown deepens, his eyes widen slightly, his mouth opening and closing, like he’s at a loss of words.

Inaho blinks. Tries to remember what exactly did he say to make Calm look like that.

Everybody leaving the military service and pursuing other paths. Paths that have nothing to do with wars.

_(We’ve moved on. It’s your turn.)_

I like what I’m doing, he had told Calm.

_(I’m not ready to.)_

Ah. Again, he’s being too honest without meaning to. He should stop making a habit of it.

“Calm—“

“Inaho.” Calm clears his throat. “I was not trying to force you or anything. I was just—“ a sighs, “reminding you that there’s a whole different world out there, outside your military bases and service duties.” He looks up at Inaho, eyes kind, and smiles. “So. Take your time. Whenever you’re ready, come. Come back to us. The world would still be there no matter how long it takes you to get ready for it.”

Inaho doesn’t—this isn’t some kind of—

Wishes he still has his prosthetic eye, so that he’d know the right course to take, the right answer to give, the right emotional reaction to show. But there’s nothing—only emptiness where the Artificial Intelligence’s center optical nerve should be.

The world—

_(a thought for another day.)_

He doesn’t know what kind of face he’s making right now; he only knows it causes Calm to smile this particular smile, strained at the edges but still sincere, a smile like he’s trying to be kind.

It’s probably meant to be reassuring, but. 

It just makes him.

Angry.

“Okay.” 

And then quiet, quiet, quiet.

*

The next time Inaho sees him, Slaine smiles at him, slow and deliberate. 

Inaho frowns. 

“Well.” Inaho says, bemused. “You’re in a good mood.”

Tap. Tap. Tap. Slaine’s forefinger is drumming slow tapping onto the table surface. Such movement shouldn’t produce sound, except the prison is always quiet, and being underground, it’s inevitable for any noise to echo.

“A good thing, right?” Slaine’s voice is quiet, at odds with the smile he’s displaying. He looks--Inaho couldn’t quite place the expression. sorrowful? rueful? resigned?

“Why?” 

Tap. Tap. Tap. “You’ve been waiting for it, it seems.”

Inaho blinks. “What?”

“I’m a fast learner, shall we say.” Slaine says, still in his quiet voice. “I know to expect certain things given enough clues. I’m good at it.” Tap. Tap. Tap. “I have to, given the place I grew up in.”

Inaho’s frown deepens. 

Slaine just continues to smile at him. his fingers drumming steady rhythm on the table.

“What are you trying to say?”

Ever so slowly, the drumming sound stops, even when his fingers do not stop moving. They move so silently that Inaho knows they’re still moving only from the eerie shadows casted on the wall behind Slaine.

Suddenly, Inaho sits straighter, feeling Slaine’s eyes focusing on him and *only* him. Which is a weird feeling, since Slaine has been looking at him from the start at this particular meeting.

Slaine’s palm closing over Inaho’s knuckles, slow and deliberate, caressing more than touching, and Inaho’s so startled _when did slaine move?_ he pulls his hand but Slaine holds fast and doesn’t let go, pinning Inaho’s hand on the table.

“Let’s get started then.” Slaine says, smiling his sad unnerving smile, eyes bright, looking more alive than Inaho has ever seen him. In that moment, Inaho’s instinct screams at him to run away, all his nerves tense and ready to fight.

Yet Inaho doesn’t--

Looking at Slaine *now*, he understands why Martians would follow this *boy* despite how unwell he seems, despite their disgusts towards Terrans. His hand firm on top of Inaho’s, Slaine’s strange smile and bright eyes promise nothing but disaster and ruins--but oh, what an experience it would be.

And Inaho is--

*

(finally.)

*


End file.
